


Stay At Home

by PumpkinDoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brock and Darcy in quarantine, Darcy is much better at this, F/M, TripleAgent!Rumlow, domestic fic, living together when you're never apart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy and Brock in quarantine
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 87
Kudos: 318





	1. 24/7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! Authors' note: originally, I felt funny about about writing quarantine-set fics, because I didn't want to seem callous or joking about something so serious, so I hope nobody's offended, but I had an anonymous ask about how Darcy/Brock would be in quarantine together on tumblr. So, here you go, anon!

“Oh my God,” Darcy said, staring at the television screen in horror. Every episode seemed to get more and more startling and shocking to watch.

“Motherfucker,” he said. She looked at Brock. He’d shifted next to her on the couch. His jaw was slack. They were watching _Tiger King_ on Netflix. “People live like this?” Brock added, clearly agitated. The documentary was showing zoo workers picking through expired meat for themselves on a truck. Then they showed the inside of their houses: cluttered, old, falling-down-looking rooms. “I can’t watch this,” he said, standing up. The blanket over both of them slid off his lap.

“Okay,” Darcy said, pausing the episode. The remote bonked. “Did you want me to find something else?” she asked. But not the news. CNN made her cry sometimes. 

“No, it’s okay,” he said, patting her knee and piling the blanket on top of her. He did it almost by reflex, she thought. “You know I don’t watch television much. I’m going to, uh, go clean the kitchen,” he said, nodding to himself. 

“That’s the third time this week!” Darcy called, grinning. She could see the way the countertops gleamed from the couch. He’d been cleaning compulsively since they’d gone into quarantine. This was all new to her: they’d moved in together a week before DC’s stay-at-home order. She’d had no idea that he was such a neat freak. Or that he had so much energy to burn. His guest bedroom was an ever-growing home gym where he spent at least an hour or two a day and he was still all fidgety. “We’re going to run out of Clorox wipes,” she whispered to herself, then raised her voice so he could hear. “Did I tell you that I scored some hand soap last night? It came back in stock!” she called out. “At two am.” They’d run out and she’d had trouble finding more. Everyone was out of stock. Brock had been slightly horrified when she found an article where several physicians recommended body wash as the gentlest, skin safe substitute. She hadn’t minded that his hands smelled like her Vanilla Bean Noel, though. That was nice. Especially in bed. It was like sex and dessert. Her two favorite activities, really.

“Good,” he said. “Why were you awake at two am?”

“Jane called, there were astronomy things last night,” Darcy said. She and Jane were still technically working for SHIELD via Zoom. All in all, it was easier for her not to go into the lab. Darcy could wear her pajamas all day and nobody in HR could say anything about dress code violations. Jane--at home with Thor--was very chill when she had a lot of sex. And Darcy didn’t have to wake her up in the morning or worry about her having clean clothes. Her job duties were considerably scaled back. Thor could handle all that for a few weeks, she thought, grinning to herself. The neighbors might not. 

“Oh,” he said. She watched as he cleaned the fridge until the surface gleamed. Darcy was perfectly happy staying home, although she missed her favorite coffee shop baristas and fretted about the people working in the grocery stores. Brock had taken over groceries, insisting his exposure to HYDRA serums gave him more protection. It was a solid argument. The biggest downside was that he tended to buy healthy food, so she’d started pre-ordering her Pop Tarts for him to pick up or getting them delivered. 

“I ordered you a boxer’s jump rope thingy and some weighted medicine balls, too,” she said.

“You did?” he said, looking up from wiping down the countertops again. He smiled widely. It changed his whole face. “That’s sweet of you.”

“It was your money,” Darcy said. She laughed. “Sorry.” She still wasn’t used to their combined finances situation, but he kept insisting that his money was their money, so she could spend it however she liked.

“You got the good ones, though, right?” he said, unruffled. “Not, uh, a kids’ jump rope?”

“Of course I got you the good, grown up ones,” she teased. “They probably have a sexier name, too like Man Ropes.” She looked at her phone to check the order. “Your Man Ropes will be here by the end of the week. Probably,” she said. “And the new soap.”

“Good,” he said. “I’m gonna clean the bathroom.”

“Again?” she said, laughing. She wasn’t going to complain too much--she hadn’t cleaned anything. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

“But promise me I get to watch you jump rope,” she called out. She’d decided that watching him exercise was the only gym thing she really enjoyed. "Without a shirt!" she added. She heard him laughing as he went down the hall.

  
  
  


* * *

_Conditioners and hair treatments Darcy Lewis has tried in quarantine:_

  1. _Putting coconut oil all over her hair_
  2. _Half coconut oil, half olive oil_
  3. _A Youtube thing with coconut oil and honey_
  4. _A conditioner mixed with cooled espresso because someone said it would make brown hair shinier_
  5. _Every application technique for 2c-3a waves on NaturallyCurly .com: smasters, squish to condish, LOC...  
  
_



* * *

“You look like someone from the eighties,” Brock said, as he emerged from a shower. Darcy looked up and grinned. He was shirtless and barefoot, hair wet. 

“Who?” she said. 

“Uhhh.” He snapped his fingers, clearly searching for a name. “What’s her name from _Dynasty_ , British chick, in that thing,” he said. “She wore stuff like that.”

“Excuse me, it is a Turbie Towel over my shower cap and it is very fashionable,” Darcy insisted. She was deep conditioning her hair again, while they waited for delivery. She googled _Dynasty_ on her phone. “You think I look like Joan Collins?” she said, grinning, as she turned to the fridge to open a bottle of wine for him. He was funny about his diet, but the man liked a good glass of wine. She was grateful that he was more into merlot or rieslings than scotch or gin. She didn’t want post-scotch kisses. 

“Yeah,” he said. “She was the hot wife.” Darcy laughed. 

“The hot wife?” she said.

“Oh, yeah.” He came up behind her, leaning in to kiss her neck. She wiggled appreciatively. His mouth traveled up near her ear, then went still. “Why do you smell like coffee?” he said, voice perplexed. “Is it just coming out of your pores now?”


	2. Scandalously Holding Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

**Snacks Tried in Quarantine**

**1\. Raspberry Pop Tarts**

_Darcy’s verdict: “Much better than the Cinnamon Roll ones, those were a letdown.”_

_  
_ **2\. Llama Loops cereal**

_Brock: “What the fuck are llama loops? Have you ever even met a vegetable?”  
Darcy: “No and I never will. Besides, these are pink. With glitter!”   
Darcy: "Wait...I like broccoli."  
Brock: "That took you a minute."  
  
_

**3\. Some sort of paleo trail mix**  
_  
Darcy’s verdict: “Oh God, it’s bark. Actual tree bark.”  
Brock: “It’s got good protein and fats. C’mon, you need protein. You could put some, uh, fruit in that. Real fruit, not just Crunchberries.”  
Darcy: “It’s insubordination to insult the Captain, sir.”  
Brock: “Uh-huh.”  
Darcy: “I switched over to the extra protein milk and put greek yogurt in my mac n’ cheese, what more do you want from me?”  
Brock: “It’s boxed mac n’ cheese in Scooby Doo shapes.”  
Darcy: “It sparks joy!”  
  
_

**4\. Cinnamon apple oatmeal  
**  
_Darcy: “I think I actually like this?”  
Brock: “It has a decent amount of protein.”  
Darcy: “I feel like a virtuous character in a nineteenth-century novel. Shall we go for a long walk in the woods and exchange significant glances because we’re too poor to get married?”  
Brock: "Huh?"  
Darcy: “Or do you want to be already married? We could be secret lovers in an Edith Wharton and scandalously hold hands? But then I would be a fallen woman. I think I like that better.” _

  
  


* * *

“Ah-chooo!” Darcy said, sneezing so violently that her chin snapped forward. “Ugh,” she muttered, shuffling towards the coffeemaker. Brock was in the second bedroom, exercising, but he’d undoubtedly heard her. It was impossible not to. She was a loud, honking sneezer. Like a freaking goose. She’d always envied those women who did cute little kitten sneezes. Darcy was snatching for a paper towel when the second and third sneezes got her. “Ah-choo! Ahhhhh-choo!”

“Darcy?” she heard Brock say, as she wiped at her nose. Where were the tissues, she wondered, shaking her head slightly. Her spring allergies were intense. 

“Yeah?” she said, turning on the water to wash her hands and fill the coffee pot.

“Are you--?” he began, rounding into the kitchen.

“Ahhhh-chooo!” Darcy said, sneezing violently again. He looked horrified. “Sorry,” she said, “I’m a loud sneezer--”

“We need to take your temperature,” Brock said, voice low and serious.

“What?” Darcy said.

“I’ll get the thermometer,” he said, wheeling abruptly.

“It’s seasonal allergies!” Darcy yelled. “I just need some Claritin.” But she couldn’t convince him that it was no big deal. 

“Sit down,” he said, ominously advancing on her with the thermometer. 

“Seriously?” Darcy said.

“It would kill me if I brought something home to you,” Brock said. He kept taking her temperature every hour. Which totally put a dent in her coffee consumption, since he wouldn’t let her eat or drink for twenty minutes beforehand. “98.3,” Brock said, on their third go-round.

“I told you, I’m completely fine,” Darcy said. “No temp, no virus, it’s just that bitch pollen, coming for me again.” That actually got him to smile. That was a relief. He’d been stubbornly serious all morning.

“Again?” he said, looking at her.

“She wants me dead. One spring, they were the worst they’ve ever been,” she said. “I did my homework at a desk near the front of the house and I was so miserable and irritated that I went outside to the porch in my pajamas and hosed down all the bushes around the front of the house with the water hose. My mom still tells people that story. She thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen.”

“You thought watering all the plants would help?” he said.

“No, I sprayed them like they were on fire, I wanted to wash away as much pollen as possible,” Darcy said. “Also, I might’ve been out of my mind on a cocktail of benadryl and nasal spray.” He laughed. “So, this is to be expected,” she told Brock. “Don’t worry.”

“I worry,” he said.

* * *

“He won’t stop freaking out,” Darcy whispered to Jane. She was hiding in the bathroom to call, so Brock wouldn’t overhear. 

“I think it’s kind of sweet, he’s worried about your health,” Jane said.

“He took my Pop Tarts ten minutes ago and he’s timing it until he can check again,” Darcy said. “It would be a lot cuter if I had my snacks. I’m thirsty enough to drink water right now.”

“Oh, no,” Jane said sarcastically. “Not water.”

“I’ve got to hide that thermometer. Do you think if I took my top off and distracted him with sex, I could hide it in the couch? He never watches TV,” Darcy mused. “He might not find it if I put it there. Or behind something he doesn’t eat, like potato chips. Or the bread.” She heard Jane’s laughter. “Stop that,” Darcy said. “I will not have you laugh at me in my coffee-deprived state.”

“Wait, wait,” Jane said. “I need to tell you something! Hold on--” 

“I’m hanging up now,” Darcy said.

“Hey,” Brock said, when she emerged from the bathroom. His expression was serious enough to make Darcy feel guilty. “You ready?” He waved the thermometer.

“Sure,” Darcy said. Then she narrowed her eyes. “But if I’m fine, I get a cup of coffee and we have a shower and a nap?” she bargained. 

“A nap?” Brock said, eyebrows going up. “You want me to take a nap?”

“With me,” Darcy said, plopping next to him on the couch. “Ahhhh.” She stuck her tongue out playfully, then opened her mouth. 

“Be serious,” he said, but he smiled. His smile fell away as they said waiting for the digital thermometer to beep and indicate it had read her temp. His eyes were serious. Darcy held his gaze. Those eyes were so beautiful. A warm amber brown, flecked with bits of green. She caught herself leaning forward instinctively. He smirked. “I saw that,” he said. Darcy couldn’t talk. It was one of his very serious instructions. She pulled a face instead. Finally, it beeped. She took it out eagerly.

“See? Totally normal!” Darcy said. Brock took the thermometer, smiled, and then cleaned it carefully, before placing it back in the case.

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Okay,” Darcy said. “C’mon.” She pulled his hand and hopped up. “I’m taking off your pants.”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” Brock said mildly.

“Oh, now he doesn’t argue,” Darcy said, leading him to the bathroom. Still, taking his clothes off was never not fun. She pulled his shirt off first, grinning. “You’re really too much sometimes,” Darcy said, running her hands over his chest. He smirked.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, untying the drawstring on his sweatpants. He reached around her and turned on the water.

“I’m too much? You’re wearing too much,” Brock said. He tugged playfully at the hem of her pajamas.

Shower sex was slightly out of Darcy’s range—soap and slippery surfaces were risky for her, but she loved looking at him and touching him. She was laughing and kissing him when he spoke. “Hold on to the damn bar,” he said. He dropped to his knees.

“I thought I was washing your hair,” Darcy said, raking her fingers through the strands clinging to his forehead.

“Nope,” he said. “Hold tight, baby.” 

“Oh God,” Darcy moaned. She leaned against the shower wall, warm water sluicing over her body, until her knees buckled and she had to lean against his shoulders. She jerked in response to his mouth. “Uhhhh.” He grinned up at her when he realized she was trembling.

“You ready to get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I think you’re going to have to carry me.”

“Uh-huh.”

* * *

She giggled as he kissed her face, their bodies curled together in bed. “You didn’t let me dry my hair,” Darcy mock complained.

“I got no patience,” Brock said, “and I’m real excited about this nap thing.”

She laughed as he moved on top of her. He was being playful, even silly. It wasn’t his usual style. He kissed her jaw loudly. This was a new side of him, she thought. Was he showing her new sides—

“Oh fuck,” Darcy said, thoughts interrupted by an intense thrust of his hips. “That’s—oh,” she gasped out. “Oh God.” He felt so good. He chuckled and she felt him smiling as his mouth touched hers. He kept kissing her even as she came and he followed, swearing between kisses. That was familiar. He sank against her for a moment, breathing heavily. 

“So, this nap thing,” Brock said, pushing wet strands of hair away from her body. His hands lingered on her boobs. 

“Hmm?”

“I haven’t napped in, oh, a few decades. Am I doing this right?” he asked, voice wry. “I need to know your process.”

“Technically, if you want to do this right, I think we have to stay on our individual mats,” Darcy said. “No touching.”

“Well, I don’t like that.”

“Those are the rules. But you get a juice box afterwards.”

“A juice box?” he said, sticking out his tongue suggestively. “You know how I love those.”

  
  



	3. Getting Your Exercise Somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I gotta go for a run,” Brock said. Darcy made a sad noise and continued kissing his collarbone. She was perched on top of him, pretending to pin him in place. Her knees bracketed his hips and if she just stretched her muscles a fraction more, she could wiggle closer. For sure, he wouldn’t toss her off the couch, right? She ignored his heavy sigh and tried to ease her thighs wider apart. She really needed to stretch more if they were going to be home together. “Sweetheart,” he said, as Darcy kissed his neck. She looked up. He’d closed his eyes. “I, uh, really should go--” Brock began.

“Do I need to show you the blacklight video again?” she cut in sharply. CNN had been running a video of a bunch of diners in a small study of proximity contamination, using ultraviolet gel in lieu of virus. By the end of the segment, the UV gel had migrated from one guy’s hands to the entire room. Everyone was all glowy green spotted--the people, the plates, even the ketchup. Darcy and Jane had exchanged texts about it, mutually freaking out.

“I’m not going to a buffet,” he complained, shifting slightly. He didn’t open his eyes or try to move her, though.

“Nobody’s going to a buffet,” Darcy vowed. “Never again. Or a cruise. I forbid you to go on a cruise.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said.

“Good. They’re floating petri dishes.”

“It’s a run,” Brock said. “Just a run.”

“Running is worse,” she said. “You’ll be breathing like this”--she mimed huffing--“anyone around you will be breathing. The droplets! What about the droplets? You’ve seen the coughing--”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the coughing dummy,” he said. “You don’t need to show me the coughing dummy.” The coughing dummy, as it turned out, spread droplets way freaking far. Darcy had never realized coughing was potentially so...icky.

“You know public parks and trails are going to be crowded,” she said, “because the weather is nice and people are stupid.”

“I’m serum protected,” he said, eyes fluttering open slowly. He was craning his chin down to look at her. Darcy paused, let the moment linger. 

“I’m not,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead. He sighed heavily. “You aren’t.”

“Stay,” she said, knowing her face was smug. 

“I could take a run at night, there’d be less people,” he reasoned out.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “Way less.” She kissed him on the mouth and he smiled. “Hey,” Darcy said, pulling back, “do you still have that fake merc stuff?”

“Huh?”

“The Crossbones stuff? The big mask?” she said. “That might be protective....”

“I can’t run in that,” he said, starting to laugh. Brock’s laughter grew wild. He clasped the back of her head, holding it to his shoulder. 

“Mhhmmfp,” Darcy said, startled by the movement. He rocked her gently for a second. Then she started to shriek as he tickled her. Darcy thrashed around, but his grip was solid. “You--you--” she sputtered, finally freeing herself to smack ineptly at his chest. He laughed at her and caught her hands. “Grrrrrr,” Darcy said.

“I can’t believe you think I should go terrorist jogging,” Brock said wryly. “Are you making puppy noises?”

“Maybe,” Darcy said. “Ahhhhh! Stop--stop--tickling me.” She flailed and wiggled, letting out little shrieks, but he held her tightly. 

“You gonna let me go for a run?” he asked, when she was breathless. 

“Nope,” she said, chest rising and falling. He grinned slyly.

“No?” Brock said. “I’ll have to get my exercise somewhere else.” He slid his hands down to her ass and she felt him squeeze.

“I like that plan,” Darcy said. “Good plan. Take off your pants.” They fumbled out of their clothes. She’d gotten off her t-shirt when she accidentally kneed him in the thigh.

“Ow,” he said.

“Sorry, sorry,” Darcy said, apologetically dropping a kiss on the nearest part of him she could reach--the inside of his elbow. 

“It helps that you’re cute,” Brock said and she laughingly threw the t-shirt at his head. 

“Pfffht,” Darcy said, as he palmed at her waist, thumbs sliding farther down. “Hold on,” she said, rising. She needed to get her clothes off.

“Nope,” he said, tugging at her pajama pants.

“Ahhh,” Darcy said, laughing and trying to ease them off. When she pulled off one leg of her pajama pants, her sock popped off, too. It landed on the floor. She looked at Brock. “My sock,” she said, giggling. He gave her a smoldering look. “You stop that,” she said, “that’s an unfair level of sexiness.”

“Yeah?” he said, expression pleased. “Get your other leg out of those pants, sweetheart.” She slid her other leg out and reached back to pull off her other sock. 

“Hmmpf--ahh,” Darcy said. The hands at her waist steadied her. “Thank you,” she said. When she looked back at Brock, he was smiling. Darcy slumped down on him, laughing. He smiled at her. They held eye contact for a moment. “You’re having fun, right?” she asked him. 

“Of course,” he said. He smirked slowly. “I have all the fun.” He tilted his chin up, kissing her. 

* * *

  
Five Things Darcy and Jane Have Done Together via Videocall During Quarantine _(with add’l. commentary)_ _  
  
_

  1. **Watched** ** _Real Genius._** **Again.** ** _  
_** _  
Jane: “I love this movie.”_ _  
_ _Darcy: “If Brock ever dumps me, I’m buying that plane ticket to Los Angeles and trying to pickup Val Kilmer. Life’s too short.”_ _  
_ _Jane: “Suuuure.”_ _  
_ _Darcy: “What?”_ _  
_ _Jane: “Like Brock would ever.”_ _  
_ _Darcy: “Awww.”_ _  
_ _Jane: “Thor and I would kill him.”_ _  
_ _Brock: “I heard that!”_ _  
_ _Darcy: “Whoops.”  
  
_
  2. **Changed Jane’s ringtone** _  
_ _  
Jane: “I did it!”  
  
_
  3. **Tried a free fitness app trial together** **  
** _  
(several yoga mat slip and falls)  
  
_
  4. **Brainstormed recipes with whatever Jane has in the kitchen** **  
** _  
(Jane’s third attempt at brown rice; very messy)  
  
_
  5. **Wine and dessert. Lots of wine and dessert.** ** _  
_** _  
Darcy: “What are you having?”_ _  
_ _Jane: “Mango ice cream and plum wine.”_ _  
_ _Darcy: “Very classy.”_ _  
_ _Jane: “Shut up.”_ _  
_ _Darcy: “I was being serious!”_ _  
_ _Jane: “Oh. Sorry.”_ _  
_ _Darcy: “You drunk meanie.”_



* * *

“Darcy?” Brock called. She’d heard the door unlock. He must be back from his run.

“I’m in here!” Darcy yelled, pedaling frantically on his exercise bike. “In the other bedroom!” She’d been doing the spin part of the free app trial with Jane. You could stream it on the television.

“What are you doing?” Brock said, face shocked. “You’re on the bike?”

“Hey!” Darcy said, slowing down enough to wipe the sweat off her forehead and playfully blow him a kiss. “Come look, it’s the guy who looks like you!” She picked up her pedaling again. 

“What?” Brock said. He stepped into the room, looking confused. “The what?” He glanced from her to the television. 

“Someone told Jane, who told me, that there’s a guy who looks like he could be your brother on this app and it’s free right now, so of course I had to check it out,” Darcy said, panting. “Only it turns out I played myself, because Jane wants a spinning buddy and that means I’m it now. But,” she paused, “these classes are super fun, even though my pace is terrible. Don’t tell him, though.” Brock looked at the TV screen again for a long moment. "Jane"--Darcy huffed--"is totally kicking my ass. She's fourth overall." He shook his head. "What? She's very competitive--" Darcy was saying.

“That guy doesn’t look like me,” Brock said, grimacing at the dark-haired instructor. They were at the end of the warm up intervals. He was smiling directly at the camera, as if he could see them. 

“You don’t think so?” Darcy said, as the spin instructor mimed singing along to the song and shimmied on his bike. He was very handsome and tan. The camera seemed to linger on his smile. He wiped his forehead with a towel. Next to her, Brock huffed.

“Why does he play with his fucking hair like that? I don’t do that, right?” he asked.

“Ummm, no,” Darcy said. The class tracks switched. The instructor was bantering with the class and gesturing.

“Who thinks I make that face?” Brock repeated. 

“Babe, I’m spinning,” Darcy said. “We’re about to do a HIIT interval.” The instructor was calling out timing signals. 

“He’s probably some sort of actor,” Brock said. “He looks like somebody who wanted to be an actor.” 

“I dunno,” she said, feeling the sweat drip down her belly. “You’re harshing my class vibes!” 

“Your vibes?” he asked.

“You know what I mean,” she said. Darcy was concentrating on getting her rpms up and had to huff out the words.

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” he said, smirking at her. “I can’t believe this guy got you to exercise, I’ve been trying to get you to exercise with me for weeks,” Brock said. He tapped the doorframe on his way out. “He looks nothing like me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the end? I'm not sure, but it feels like a good stopping place for the moment. This chapter is for @werekeepingittogether, who tipped me off that there's a cycling instructor who looks like Brock Rumlow and, thus, inspired this chapter's shenanigans: https://yespumpkindoodlesthings.tumblr.com/post/616055672726028288/i-have-been-reliably-informed-by


End file.
